


Rogue Trader

by ausmac



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 00:40:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8035504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ausmac/pseuds/ausmac
Summary: In this AU, Qui-Gon Jinn never took Obi-Wan Kenobi as his Padawan, and when they meet up years later, it triggers an unusual situation.





	1. Chapter 1

I was standing by myself off to one side of the noisy crowd trying to decide if it was a good time to slip away when the crowd parted and I saw him.

It had been…what, a year or more…since our last encounter.  Half a dozen times in the previous ten years that we’d met.  The galaxy is a lot smaller than it seems, but our kind of work seemed to bring us together, like currents in a river depositing flotsam.  I’m not sure I looked for him in crowds, not really sure I felt a strange twitch of pleasure when I saw him.  He was annoying, frequently frustrating, always a challenge.  He was one of my greatest regrets.

He saw me at the same time and I suspected he’d known I was there and had been lurking.  Well, not lurking exactly.  Waiting perhaps for the right moment.  As the crowed parted he turned, saw me and began to walk towards me with that graceful smooth stalk of his.  The remnants of his Jedi training perhaps or just his natural grace.  Whatever it was, it was pleasing to watch.

He stopped just out of arm’s reach and bowed his head slightly.

“Master Jinn.”

“Kenobi.” 

It was always difficult to start the conversation and I let him control it.

“I assume you’re here to stage the negotiations,” he asked coolly.

“Stage?  That sounds rather proprietary.  Let us say assist to organise perhaps.  It’s a fairly intricate matter.”

“It always is when politics and religion get in the way of intelligence.”

His voice was most charismatic, low and warm, vibrating through the Force.  I tucked my hands in my sleeve and studied him.  “I don’t imagine you are here on vacation.”

He nodded slowly, sipping on a drink.  I took the opportunity to study the young man who might have been my final Padawan had things turned out differently.  Average height, a solid, healthy build, red-gold hair pulled back in a tail behind his head, dressed in  a dark blue, conservative outfit that suited his colouring.  Simple, elegant, neat.  Sharp changeable eyes judged me in return.

“My work is my hobby.  As always, we seem to be on opposing sides.  The Collegium has hired me as one of the negotiating team.  I assume you are playing advocate for the Government?”

“An observer only, here to offer assistance. “

He gave a brief snort of laughter.  “Assistance, is that what you call it?  The Jedi Council does like to involve itself everywhere, doesn’t it?”

He’d grown up in the Temple, spent his childhood training to be a Knight only to be refused.  By the Jedi.  By me.  Oh, you must hate me still, I thought, wanting, not the first time, for a chance to change the past.  A Jedi can do many things, including mourn for unfulfilled promise.  What we can’t do is take back time.

It was interesting, but somehow I could read his emotions, as if we had some sort of link and I sensed that dark anger that showed not at all on his face.  Even without advanced training his shields were good and he snapped them down when he sensed my interest.  One sandy eyebrow quirked up.

“Another reason I’m here.  Just in case …. anyone …. tries any manipulation.”

That had been a deliberate jab.  He knew very well the Jedi did not use their abilities so. He confirmed it with his next smiling comment.

“Of course, I know you wouldn’t do that, but my employers aren’t quite so trusting.”

I stepped forward without meaning to, further into his private space.  I laid one hand on his arm and spoke in a whisper.  “I’m sorry Obi-Wan.  You know I wish…”

He pulled back, almost pushed me away and the anger blossomed  as a subtle movement in the Force.  He looked as if he was about to respond, then he dipped his head in a sarcastic salute and walked away.  I don’t believe I’d ever been quite so smoothly dismissed.

 

I saw him next on the following day as the negotiations entered the opening stages, those parts where the parties shuffled for advantage.  I waited on the sidelines, offering advice, trying to keep the talks on track.  I watched him with the religious dignitaries, the quiet, glowing presence who taunted me without saying a word, with hardly a glance in my direction. 

He was good.  Smooth, charming, intelligent, witty.  So much presence for such a young man.  Such a very attractive young man…

At the end of that long, tiring day I ate alone in my quarters and ventured out into the parliament gardens.  The gardens were extensive, lit by floating lanterns and the light of that world’s twin moons.  While wandering through the quiet pathways I caught sight of a figure moving on an opened grassed area and stepped back to watch.

Obi-Wan was exercising.  It was a warm night and he’d stripped down to a pair of very short exercise pants and was moving through a series of patterns very close to the katas taught at the Temple.  He was good, very good – quick, athletic, his young, fit body flicking and leaping without a stumble or fall from one exotic flow of movement to the next.  His skin shone with perspiration, his long, unbound hair flew about his shoulders like a cloak.

I watched him for some time before turning away with a sigh.  As I made to walk away he was in front of me, suddenly, his chest rising and falling from his exertions and I could smell the warm musky odour of his skin.

“You refused me.”

We’d never had this conversation before thought I’d often imagined we would.

“I know.  I’m sorry.”

“Are you?  Perhaps, but not enough for me.  Not yet.” 

His eyes were the only thing I could clearly see in the shadows, that and the one hand that came out and touched my chest, just his finger tips, right above my heart.  I wrapped my fingers around his wrist, felt the angry, rapid pulse under my hand. And more.  I felt his spirit – cloudy, tinged with Darkness, hungry for something I couldn’t quite define.  Something between vengeance and need.

That I was sensing that didn’t seem logical.  We’d never trained together, never worked together.  There could be no link between us.  But there was.  Somehow.  Some kind of vestigial bonding that I’d ignored all those years ago but which he’d nurtured even though he hated me, perhaps, for what I’d done.   We stood frozen, my hand around his wrist, for long moments.  Then I let go, back away and left.  He didn’t say another word, stood and watched me go but I felt the accusations following me through the warm night air.

Left him.  Left part of myself perhaps.  How very unexpected.

 

The negotiations went on their tedious predictable way and a resolution of sorts was made, after a week of haggling.  Obi-Wan and I met frequently during that time and as much as his presence bothered me, it fascinated me as well. 

The final night was a celebratory dinner held to announce the conditions of the new agreement that settled a war that has lasted generations.  It was noisy, colourful with a great deal of eating, drinking, bragging, toasting and so on.  At one point even Obi-Wan joined me to toast the completion, offering me a glass of the local wine.  I tasted it to please him.

It was the last thing I remembered before I woke up somewhere else entirely unfamiliar.

 

 

I awoke to pain.  It pushed me awake, the pain from arms and legs and the chill from the floor I was lying on that soaked through my skin because I was completely naked, stretched out uncomfortably on that strange floor with my arms locked behind my back, my ankles equally restrained.

As I struggled to see I caught sight of Kenobi standing watching me.  Anger sliced through me as I squirmed around towards him.

“Are you mad!  Let me out of this!”

When he saw that I was awake he walked over to me, took me by the shoulders and dragged me across the wooden floor to prop me up against the wall.  The angle of my arms made it impossible for me to brace myself; all I could do was sag down and try and push against him.

“I said…”

“I heard what you said.”  He sat back on his haunches and watched me from hooded, almost unreadable eyes.  “Don’t bother trying to manipulate me – I’m anything but weak-minded.  Those chains are made of Durilium and the silver band around your throat is a Force dampener.  It doesn’t cut your off from the Force entirely, nothing can do that.  But it will make it hard for you to do much beyond receive.”

As he spoke he reached out and ran one warm hand along my thigh and up to my stomach.  Anger, and a surprising flash of fear, lashed along my nerves.

“Take your hands off me!”

He smiled then, very slightly, almost as aware as I of the unwanted stirring at my groin.  His hand continued up my thigh and onto my stomach as I fought for control.  Control of the anger.  Control of the frustration of not being able to fight.  Control of my infuriating response to that hand.

He watched my face as his hand continued on its gentle exploration.  Watched and smiled very slightly at each flinch, each twitch of my nostrils, each little battle.  The hand wandered across my chest down to the stomach again and finally to my groin.  Very gently, he lifted my penis and held it in his hand and I pushed back against the wall with a hiss as he started to stroke it.

I didn’t want to react to that touch, didn’t want the unexpected flash of arousal that made me harden and rise into his fist, especially didn’t want to see the warm appreciation in his eyes as he noted the size of what he held.  It was a vulnerability, a helplessness the like of which I’d never known.  I tried to move away and he took hold of the chains around my ankles with his other hand and held me in place, keeping me still with a decently strong Force pressure.

I could feel the sweat running down my face, the tingling discomfort from my arms as they were pressed back against the wall, the cold ache from my legs and arse where I sat on the floor.  But mostly I could feel my body responding to that touch in spite of everything my mind might want.

It would have been good if I could have hidden from that speculative gaze but all I could do was watch him, try to reach him.  I spoke to him again through a set of rigidly locked jaws.

“What  do you want, Kenobi?”

He continued to stroke me, working from the base to the tip in strong, sweeping strokes until I felt my body beginning to twitch, my groin shivering as I teetered on the edge of orgasm.  When it seemed I would explode from the unholy pleasure of it he stopped and squeezed the base of my penis and held it until the arousal faded and I was left gasping and shivering.

“I want you to call me Obi-Wan,” he said softly, letting me go at last.  “I want you to beg me to take you.  Then I’ll let you go.”

He bent forward and pulled me up to my feet, turned me and let me drop onto the narrow bed.  He pushed me over on my side and linked a chain at the end of the bed to the ones on my wrist, another one to the bands around my ankles.  Then he stepped back to study the effect.

Pride made me lie still, not fight against the restraints, at least not then.  “You’re insane!”

He shrugged, gave another of those infuriating smiles, and left, turning the light off and locking the door behind him.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Almost all of my life, for as long as I have memory of self, I have been in touch with the living Force.  It is as much a part of me as breathing.  To be cut off from it gave me a more intimate understanding of blindness.

It was a sort of arrogance, which was odd for I’d never thought of myself as arrogant.  It took the removal of my touch with the Force to reacquaint me with myself.  Qui-Gon Jinn, Master Jedi, worker of miracles. And there I was, stark naked, as helpless as a child chained to a bed by a young man barely trained in the Force.  Even with the Force I would have found it difficult to break those incredibly strong chains.  Without it I had little chance. 

Not that that stopped me from trying.  I spent half the night searching within my immediate area for anything I could use as a weapon or to break the bonds that held me.  He’d apparently gone over the area with a suction pump; there wasn’t so much as a pin to pick the lock with, nor could I find any part of the bands or chains that was any weaker than any other part. 

I tried working the chain against the bedhead but it was pointless.  All I achieved was rubbed and bleeding wrists and hands.  I tried pulling them away from the support and only ended up bruising myself further.  For all its plain appearance the bed was solid steel and wood and resisted all my efforts.  After hours of effort, exhausted and scraped and bleeding, I acknowledged that nothing could be achieved immediately and settled as comfortably as I could to try and sleep.  Try being the operative word – at best I managed to doze intermittently. 

I was lying unrested and uncomfortable at the end of that miserable night when he returned.  He looked disgustingly fresh, dressed in brown trousers and boots, a cream shirt and brown leather coat and he smiled at my bleary-eyed scowl as he closed the door and deposited a tray of food on the floor next to the bed. 

“I see you spent the night profitably.  Which would you prefer – breakfast or the bathroom?” 

I am not a morning person at best, and that morning was well below best.  I held up my wrists.  “I would prefer the key to these and you behind bars.  Preferably in chains.” 

He  waited with a silent patience I could only admire as much as it frustrated me and I eventually sighed.  “Very well.  Bathroom.” 

He unlocked the chain holding my feat and then the one holding my arms.  As soon as they were lose I surged up and swung my legs towards him in a wide sweep.  He’d been expecting it, I think, or perhaps I transmitted the move and he simply stepped back, still holding the chain and as I tried to stand he pulled it.  I attempted to fall back onto the bed but having been forced to lie in one position all night had left me stiff and I missed it and hit the floor, landing on my right hip. 

That hurt and for a moment all I could do was lie there, humiliated and hurting,  and fight down the urge to whimper.  He stood a few feet away, still holding the chain, waiting.  He hadn’t said a word and I looked up at him.  He was watching me, his expression closed, those changeable eyes studying me as one would an unpredictable animal, with neither fear nor malice obvious in his expression  I wished I could read him but the ability to do that had been taken from me. 

After a few more moments I struggled up against the bed and finally managed to stand, favouring the bruised hip.  I watched him wrap the chain end around his hand and hold it up. 

“Don’t force me to keep hurting you.  It isn’t what I want to but I’ll do it if I need to defend myself.”  He tugged on the chain, forcing me to follow or fall again and I shuffled after him to the bathroom for the necessary further humiliation of relieving myself.  

He saw me wince at the strain of my shoulders being held back all night and angled me up against the wall, pushing his body against mine to hold me still.  “I will undo these cuffs but if you try to escape again I’ll knock you out to do it.  Which is it to be?”  His large fingers were pressed against the nerve junction of my throat and I assumed he knew just how hard to push -  the difference between unconsciousness and death was very narrow. 

“Very well.  Do what you want, I’d rather be awake.” 

I bit back on a curse as he undid the cuffs and my aching shoulder muscles twinged with  the release.  With one hand still to my throat he used the other to manoeuvre one of my arms around to my front, followed by the other, then reconnected the cuffs.   He held me up against the wall and I could feel the hard heat of his chest and groin pressed against me as his hand slid back over my stomach and side,  moved down to my groin, the palm sliding back and forth in a regular, gentle stroke.  While my mind might be demanding obedience, the part he touched was ignoring me, climbing up into that hand as if it belonged there. 

His breath stirred through my hair, his tone annoyingly smug.  “You’re really quite responsive, aren’t you?  Is that famous body control not working or do you react this way to every hand on your cock? 

Before I could think up a suitable swear word to say to him he turned me around and moved me towards the bowl and it was forgotten in the pleasure of relieving an overfull bladder.  Afterwards he washed my face and hands, bathed the skin I’d broken during the night and helped me back to the bed, reattaching the chains at my ankles and wrists but leaving my hands at the front with a little more movement.

I tried to forget my reaction to that hand, tried talking to him again, tried reaching that reasoning mind.  “Kenobi, can’t you see how ridiculous this is.  Do you think either of us can just walk away from this?  There must be a response within the law to this kidnapping.” 

He turned to pick up the tray, sat on the edge of the bed.  “So you will go to the law of this world or your Council and tell them everything?  I think not.” 

I locked my gaze to his as he turned back, projecting my will as strongly as I could.  “I will not permit this will not go unpunished.  Believe that.” 

“If you wish.  You might consider if I care.”  His control was infuriating and the fact that he had access to the Force while I did not was even more so.  I saw him smile as he doubtless sensed my annoyance.  “Be careful, Qui-Gon, remember all that anger leading to fear and so on.  Remember the Dark Side.” 

I despised sarcasm and sudden anger flared up in my chest.  The tray went flying as I shoved it with my chained hands and he sat back watching me as I struggled with the hot flash of emotion. 

“Not very bright.  That’s all the food there is until this evening.” 

“I do not care to be fed like an animal.”  I was practically snarling, forgetful of all my training and experience, enraged by his manner.  “Were I to allow myself to hate anyone, Kenobi, right now it would be you.” 

I thought I saw a slight flinch but he recovered quickly.  “More than you hate Xanatos?  At least I didn’t turn.  At least I didn’t betray you and go Rogue.  I was my own greatest failure, wasn’t I, Master Jinn?  Or was I?”  He bent towards me, holding me down through the Force and with his own strong hands, sliding his hot palms up my arms.  “Were you so afraid to fail?  Is the past ten years of my life the result of your fear?” 

I tried to struggle against him, to curse him but it did no good, he was just too strong.  Too close, too very close as he slid down beside me, riding my anger, controlling me.  His fingers stroked across my shoulders, onto my chest and touched, with just the fingertips, on each nipple.  

And just when I thought that outrage enough, he bent down and took one with his mouth, teasing it with his teeth while the other hand strolled down my ribs, caressing hips and stomach and loins, venturing into the tight curled hair of my groin. 

He smothered me with sensation.  I tried for insistence.  “Stop – stop – pl….” 

I almost said it, almost begged, bit my tongue not knowing if I’d intended to say please stop, or please yes, touch me there – because his hand was so knowing, so pleasing in spite of my shamed anger.  I forced myself to remember this was no lover’s touch, this was a ravisher with an unfortunate talent.  Unfortunate for me since the mere skating of his skin over mine was an instruction in arousal. 

In this I was inexperienced.  I’d had few intimate contacts in my life, something in my nature had built barriers between me and such possibilities.  I’d dedicated myself to being Jedi and it had seemed enough.  Most of the time.   Physical release was simple and I’d managed to ignore my libido for most of my life.  Yet here, with the slightest touch, was one who could ignite me like a flame to pyrotechnics.  It seemed very – unfair. 

He was anything but inexperienced, if the use he put his hands to was anything to go by.  He held me down with one hand and his mouth on my chest while the other roamed over my thighs, leaving me shaking with my need to control instinctive moans of pleasure.  It felt good, I couldn’t deny that, his hand was wonderful.  I cursed him again in a choked whisper and was rewarded by having his mouth swallow my breath as he kissed me. 

With his body and his Force strength holding me down, his hands framed my head and held it in place for his mouth to plunder.  I couldn’t even keep my jaws closed against him, he had learned somewhere the pressure points to touch to keep my mouth open for him.  His eyes seemed green in the dim morning light and they watched me as his tongue tasted me.  I couldn’t help seeing his pleasure, tried not to reveal my own as his lips moved up to suck on my upper lip, then the lower as if it were some favoured sweet.  He moved down, nudged my head back and nuzzled at my throat, making soft little pleasure sounds that he didn’t bother to hide.  He was enjoying himself.  I was going quietly insane trying not to. 

He pulled back, suddenly, almost as if he’d gone too far, allowed himself to become involved a little too intimately with what he was doing.  He continued to stroke me but it was more calculated, and he turned his head away so I couldn’t see his eyes.  Did that reduce the effect?  Hardly at all.  If anything, the knowledge that I could stir him even though I didn’t want to was oddly appealing.  If I’d ever been sexually attractive to anyone, I’d never noticed it.  

Those hands were at it again, fingers curling around my aroused penis in  a warm cocoon and I thrust into his grip before I could stop myself.  I cursed again, abruptly, and threw myself against the chains in something like a frenzy.  He rode me until I sagged, wasted everywhere but in one particular place.  My bucking had moved him down until his own partly aroused flesh was moving against mine and I hissed in  and out as he moved up and down.  I would have spat at him then, I think, if I’d not been so thirsty and dry.  I sobbed in a breath. 

“Damn you . . . stop . . . I can’t . . .” 

“Yes you can.  Just ask me.  Say my name and ask me and I’ll take you and then it will be over.  You want it.  I can sense it.” 

I stopped struggling, closed my eyes and let myself go limp.  He might be able to stimulate me – it was simply flesh, mere animal reaction to stimulus – but I refused to play his games.  Let him read that through the Force! 

He slid away from me, trailing his fingers across my stomach, his lips across mine in one final taste.  “I can wait,” he said, and I opened my eyes again to see him standing, looking down at me out of those bottomless eyes.  “I’ll bring you some water shortly.  And next time, don’t throw your food away.  You’ll need your strength.” 

And then he was gone again, and I was alone with my aroused body and no way to release it except through a slow and unhappy deflation.


	3. Chapter 3

The entire episode had been a revelation, and I determined to learn from it.  Whatever old regrets I might have about him should not hinder me.  And I did have regrets.  Light twisted to shadow is always a loss.  Yet without access to the Force or any ability to break out of the chains I had no direct physical way out of my predicament.  The only person who could release me was Kenobi.  The trick would be to convince him to do it. 

The easiest path would be to give him what he wanted.  I studied it from different angles and finally rejected it.  No logic.  I just couldn’t countenance it.  Pride has often been my burden. 

He left me alone during the morning and I found myself becoming bored.  I wasn’t all that uncomfortable physically, though I couldn’t move very far, but I’m unused to lying on a bed doing nothing for hours on end.  I found myself looking forward to his return if only to relieve the tedium. 

It was difficult to keep track of time but I guessed it would have been some three or four hours later when he returned.  I heard the door unlocking and watched him enter bearing another tray, caught the odour of warm food and – blessedly – the sight of a glass of water. 

He put the tray on the floor next to the bed and sat next to me.  I watched him carefully, tried to judge his mood.  Calm, controlled, back to his earlier neutrality.  He picked up the glass and helped me sit up awkwardly to drink.  I finished the entire glass and couldn’t deny the pleasure of not being thirsty. 

 “Mmm….”  I cut back the sound of pleasure,  saw his lips twitch as he bent back down for the bowl of soup.  He stirred it with the spoon, then held it up to my mouth. I considered refusing it, then relegated the vision of him handfeeding me to the back of my mind and bent forward to taste it.  I was hungry and – that was enough for the moment. 

It was a vegetable broth, spicy, just as I liked it and it hit my empty stomach in a warm rush.  He even provided a little fresh bread to wipe the bowl with, breaking it into small chunks and feeding it to me a mouthful at a time.  More or less satiated at last, I sat back with a small breath of relief. 

“ Good?”  he asked, mildly, and I responded automatically. 

“Yes, tha…..”  I bit down on the “thank you” and his smile widened. 

“Would it be so terrible to say thank you?” 

I arched backwards as the anger boiled out of me and shoved the plate away with my bound hands.  “Well, thank you, Kenobi.  Thank you for chaining me like an animal!  Thank you for fondling me like a cheap whore, thank you for demeaning me and feeding me like a beast.  Yes, I have so much to thank you for, how very thoughtless of me!”  

By the time I’d finished I was shouting, I couldn’t recall ever verbalising anger in such a way to anyone.   His expression became closed, the eyes chilled and he stood slowly, hands clenching.  He went to speak, shook his head briefly, then left, closing the door quietly behind him. 

Well done, Jinn!  Exactly the right way to behave, exactly the right strategy to use with him.  What in the name of the Force was the matter with me? 

It was one of those dialogues you wished you could take back and say again so that you could script it, say the right words in a calm and controlled voice.  Chewing over it didn’t alter the taste so I pushed my own stupidity aside and wondered at his reaction.  He’d been angry, yes, I could see that even without my normal abilities.  But there had also been the faintest look of pain.  

It took a while to remember that he was only twenty three, a very young man enacting what he obviously thought of as a fit revenge on me for his fate.  Perhaps it was, in a way.  The pain he must have felt at being rejected was the sort that lodged in the mind and heart and stayed with one forever.  Even the brightest soul could be eaten away by that sort of pain. 

Sometime later, perhaps an hour or so, I heard the faint whistle of something overhead, like he passage of one or more very fast aircars.  A few moments the later the building shook and I heard the rumbling crash of an explosion, followed shortly afterwards by another.  Repeated crashing blasts rocked the building – someone was bombing it! 

I cursed, pulled at the chains though I knew it was useless, called his name but my voice was submerged by the crashing blasts that were growing alarmingly closer.  The walls of my room shuddered and I heard falling masonry not far behind the door.  There was a few moments silence then another blast, very close – part of the ceiling on the other side of the room fell down in a shower of plaster and  wood and for the first time I smelt smoke. 

The building was burning, there was a fire somewhere! 

The crackling of fire grew louder and smoke began coming under the door and through the break in the ceiling.  The room grew foul with acrid brown smoke and I coughed, gasped for breath.  The temperature rose and the opposite wall flexed in the heat of the fire beyond it. 

So – this was the way I would go.  Burnt to death.  I wondered if I’d feel it, feel the flames eating my skin, burning my eyes and lungs.  As I coughed and choked, tried to fight for air, I remembered that most people suffocated before they burned which was probably a mercy. 

It was hard to breathe.  Coughing, eyes watering, couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe – would have liked to have – talked to him – 

The door crashed open.  Something leapt through a wall of flame.  A blackened figure, eyes wild in the smoke.  The flash of a green blade, chains snapped, being lifted and he jumped up – up into the ceiling – dragged me through the smoky darkness beside him.  He kicked tiles away and I was falling, falling out and over the wall.  Crashed down into bushes, scratched and bruised and a moment later I saw him jump down beside me. 

I dragged clean air into my lungs, choked, vomited and he held me for a moment until I was done. 

“We’re not safe here.  We have to get away under cover..  Just hold on.”  Then he picked me up and threw me over his shoulder and began to run across grass, into trees. 

That was odd – smaller than I – must be using the Force – shift my weight – look for balance, steady yourself, control – 

He gave a breathless throaty laugh.  “Ever the Jedi Master.  I’m not your Padawan, Master Jinn.  Just relax.  Trust me.” 

Had I spoken that aloud?  I couldn’t remember.  Trust him.  For some reason I did and I let him take me where he would.  I was too tired to seek alternatives and that fiery death had been a little too close for comfort.  

He stopped eventually, put me down onto something soft with the sharp smell of pineut and semmet grass, a clean summery smell. It was pitch dark and I was tired, very tired and I let him hold me, wrap himself around me to keep the chill away from my skin until I finally fell into exhausted sleep.

 

A hand shaking my shoulder woke me, along with a familiar sharp voice. 

“Time to go.  Get up.” 

He held out his hand to me and I took it, noted the burnt skin and the sharp intake of breath  as he pulled me upright.  I staggered, still dazed and sleepy, blinked and wiped my eyes as I looked about.  As he held me steady me, he was studying the woods as well. 

 “Before you ask,” he said coolly, “I have no idea why we were attacked.  The house belongs to the Chancellor, some sort of country holiday place.  Perhaps they thought we were part of his family.  I doubt it was personal.” 

“That would have meant a lot to me while I was burning to death.” 

He shrugged, obviously tired.  “You didn’t, so I don’t see the problem.” 

“The problem is, Kenobi, that I am standing here with no clothing, handcuffed with a group of unknowns trying to kill us both.”  I held my hands up, tried for my most sympathetic tone.  “Take these things off, help me find some clothes and get us both out of here alive.  This is madness!” 

He ignored me and went to the edge of the clearing to look back the way we’d come.  “We have to move, they’ve landed and released trackerdroids.” 

I pointed down at my feet, manacled, with a short length of chain beneath.  “I can move , but not fast, not like this.” 

He came back to me, ignited my lightsaber and cut through the chain.  “There.  For your own sake I’d use those legs for movement rather than trying to kick at me.  We’re a long way from town.” 

I turned north.  “There’s a river that way, I remember the maps.  There may be a town, in which case we can call for help.” 

“It’s as good a direction as any.  Shall we go?” 

There were no roads through the trees, which had obviously been kept pristine for the pleasure of the landowner.  That was both an advantage and a disadvantage. It would slow us down, but it would make us harder to track in the heavy growth.  The trackerdroids would use visual and sonic detection first, then rely on movement and heat-trace. If we could build up a good distance it might be possible to outdistance them while they searched. 

One thing I hadn’t considered was the physical wear involved in pushing through the undergrowth.  The ground was covered with leaf litter, broken twigs and branches, and stones.  I was constantly stubbing and scraping my bare feet;  within a short time they had started to bleed but I pushed on, ignoring them, as well as the number other cuts and scrapes.  Minor pain was preferable to a fatal lack of it. 

He kept pushing me, dragging at the half length of chain still attached to my wrists, seemingly unconcerned for the ragged state of his captive.  If it weren’t for the constant discomfort of my skin I could almost have forgotten I was naked, so unconcerned was he about my state.  But then, we were neither of us looking our best and we had little time to worry about it. 

By evening we’d left the droids and the house far behind and we finally came to the banks of the river.  It felt good to wash myself, sooth my torn feet and drink my fill of the water.  He stood looking out over the water, upstream and down,  trying to decide on a course. 

“Neither of us are up to swimming and its almost night.  May I suggest we camp here and go on in the morning?” 

He studied the river for a few more moments, then nodded.  ‘Very well.  We’ll stay here for the night.  No fire though, the droids will track the heat source.  Make yourself comfortable.” 

That would have been a laughable comment, if I’d felt in any mood for humour.  There was ground, rock and river and none of them looked like a comfortable bed.  I gathered some dead leaves and grasses as a cushion and settled down to try and rest. It felt good to lie down even though the onset of night brought a drop in temperature.  Within the temperature controlled environment of the house my nakedness had not been a problem.  Outside, in the rapidly cooling air of the night, I began to shake with the cold. 

Perhaps my chattering teeth kept him awake and he finally sighed and slid over the ground toward me.  

“Come here.”  He pulled the chain taught and wrapped it around his wrist.  “Think of me as your living heat source.” 

I tried to push him away.  “Don’t bother.  I’m fine….”  But he ignored me, took off his leather coat and wrapped it around me so that I felt the sudden pleasure from the warmth of it, heated by his body.  It felt so good I forgot to argue and before I could think of anything further to say he’d wrapped his arms around me, pushed me back against his coat on the ground and taken both of my hands in his. 

“We both need rest.  If you can manage to forego a natural desire to kill me where I lie we might get out of here alive.” 

Various hard objects were poking me – my own lightsaber that was attached to his belt, his blaster, his knees and elbows…and a growing fleshy erection between his legs that was pressed against my thigh.  I should have been uncomfortable but his arms were warm and the breath against my throat was soothing.  I started thinking of ways to fight him and the next thing I knew it was morning and I was lying alone, wrapped in his jacket that carried the faint not unpleasant odour of his body. 

I looked around, blinking in the morning sun, and caught sight of him walking up the river bank towards me.  The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up over muscled arms to the elbow and the shirt was open at the throat, revealing gold dusted skin at both places.  His hair framed his face in a reddish-gold halo and sky-bright eyes watched me with a curious intensity.  In spite of everything I could find nothing unpleasant in that image.  He was attractive, there was no doubt about that.  I could only have wished it were otherwise. 

He sat on the grass next to me and took the coat I handed him, folded it across his lap.  “Feeling more rested?  You snore, by the way.” 

“Thank you, I assumed as much.  Yes, I am feeling better.  I need…” 

He nodded, took hold of the chain as I stood.  “Just turn around and point it at the tree.  You won’t embarrass me.” 

And there I’d been feeling almost charitable towards him.  The temptation to do something uncouth like empty my bladder on his head came and passed and I turned away to relieve myself into a bush.  When I was done he stood and headed down to the river and I followed out of necessity, hissing as my feet stubbed a tree root.  

“If you would slow down…” I muttered as I almost fell on the incline and he turned and pulled me against him, quietly savage. 

“We have no time for this, you know,” he said in that low throaty voice that always somehow managed to excite me in spite of all my controls.  “Keep up with me, Jedi and stop whimpering.” 

His moods were most unpredictable.  I had the vague memory of him touching me during the night, but it had been a gentle touch, almost tentative and I thought he’d even kissed my face, but that might have been a dream.  The man in front of me was more likely to hit me than kiss me and I submerged an automatic response.  Arguments would do us little good. 

He waited beside me at the river while I washed my hands and face and drank some handfuls of water.  It only partly filled the emptiness in my stomach – that bowl of soup seemed a memory of years past. 

“We need to find food,” I said as I straightened and tried to wipe some of the dirt from my beard and face with my arm.  “We won’t travel far in this sort of country without it.” 

“I do know that.  We’ll have to cross.  Can you swim?” 

“Of course, though with these on,” I said, holding up my cuffed hands, “not very well.” 

“No matter.  I’ll pull you, the current isn’t strong.” 

This appeared to me to be both stupid and thoughtless but it was an opinion unlikely to be shared so I didn’t voice it.  I allowed him to wrap the chain tightly around his own wrist and tie it without a word, then followed him into the water, shivering as the chill river rose over my skin.  He made no sound, lowered himself into it and pushed out and I followed out of necessity, kicking against the current to keep up with him.  It was a difficult mode of travel  since I couldn’t use my arms for forward movement, could only try to float and propel myself using only my legs.  

We were about two-thirds the way across when disaster struck, literally.  He’d been doing well, swimming strongly and giving me some support through he Force when a submerged piece of tree limb caught him a sidestrike on the back of the head.  He was spun about and swept under and I went with him, swallowing a bellyful of water before I could pull myself back to the surface.  I pulled on the chain, using every ounce of my strength, kicking backwards as I hauled the chain back, handful by handful.  As I touched his shoulder I felt him move and a moment later he broached the surface, coughing and choking, only partially aware. 

I grabbed hold of a handful of shirt and somehow managed to make it to the bank where I immediately brought up the dirty river water and lay gasping next to him.  

It took a moment for my brain to start firing – he was next to me, only partly sensible and there was my lightsaber on his belt.  I twisted over and grabbed for it – and his hand came up and lashed out at me, hitting me on the side of the head and I fell backwards into the mud with a cry of pain. 

 

“…wake up, please . . ..didn’t mean to…..please….” 

His shaking hands were cradling my head and I opened my eyes and groaned.  Had I just imagined I’d heard anguish in that voice?  I looked up into wide, worried eyes, saw him blink and that casual mask was back.  “That was stupid.” 

No “thank you for saving me from drowning”, no apologies for knocking me unconscious.  If it weren’t for my being so worn and cold and hungry and hurting I would have been angry.  All I could seem to do was look up at him in mute misery, though I imagined some of my displeasure showed, as well.  

Then he compounded his sins by smiling.  “You look a cat fallen into a pond, all wet and droopy and infuriated.”  Before I could respond he reached out and pulled me to my feet, holding my arms as I wobbled for balance.  “I think there may be a deserted lodge close by, I remember seeing it as I flew over.  Perhaps we can find you something to wear.” 

The idea of being dry and warm was so pleasant that I didn’t even have time to think further on my annoyance.  He looked about, took his bearings, then turned away from the river.  “It’s this way I believe.”  He walked off and I stumbled after him, muttering under my breath.  I’d always been proud of my emotional restraint but it was starting to wear dangerously thin – 

We walked for about an hour through increasingly heavy woodland with Kenobi stopping frequently to take sun bearings and, I assumed, use his Force abilities to try and track his location.  After a couple of backtracks we were both fairly relieved to stumble out into a clearing at the far side of which was a neglected and obviously untenanted wood and stone building. 

There was little of use and no food inside it and the elements had ravaged it thoroughly.  One thing caught my eye – an old piece of curtain fabric hanging above one shattered window.  It was tattered and stained an indeterminate grey but it would do.  He pulled it down and handed it to me and I tore off a long strip using my teeth and feet, then folded it and ripped a hole in the centre.  He pulled the chain through the hole and slipped the cloth over my head, then tied the strip of cloth around my waist .  It came down to about my knees but it would give me some warmth and protection.  I was looking around for something to tie to my fee when I heard him chuckle. 

“The latest in Jedi high fashion.  If only your fellow Masters could see their famous Qui-Gon Jinn now…”

I swung back to him, saw the mild amusement and felt the frayed bonds of my control break.  It was stupid, he’d said and done worse things to me but for some reason his laughter hurt more than his physical misuse.  Angry beyond logic, I picked up a broken pot and flung it at him.  He dodged and I grabbed and threw anything I could touch, snarled at him, completely uncontrolled.  He grabbed the chain and pulled on it and I stumbled into him and he swung about, pushing me back against the wall with a dizzying thump. 

“You don’t like to be laughed at, do you,” he snarled, eyes slitted as he held me hard against the old, shattered wood.  “I have an intimate understanding of humiliation.  You’d be amazed how many people think the sight of a failed Jedi is funny!” 

My arms were trapped against his chest but my legs were free and I kicked him, trying for his knee but catching him on the shin and he hissed and kicked my legs out from under me.  We went down together and naturally he was on top.  He grabbed two handfuls of my hair and held me down, wrapping his legs over mine, holding me flat, controlling me with his weight and his hot anger. 

I gathered what strength I had left, centred it in my stomach muscles – and pushed.  That surprised him, I think, but he held on and suddenly he was under me as we rolled across the dirt floor, through broken furniture.  He was holding my hair still and he looked up at me and the anger faded, replaced by something else. Something that made him wrap his legs around me and pull my head down so that our mouths were together.  His lips moved against mine, oddly gentle and I opened my mouth to curse him but that clever tongue invaded me and swallowed all the angry words. 

Even though he was under me I was nonetheless controlled by his hands moving through my hair and down my back, by his mouth kissing me as no-one had ever kissed me in my life.  I think I did curse him, but only when his mouth moved away, only when one hand slid under me, inside my ragged poncho to lift me and touch me and turn the curses to moans. 

His mouth was on the side of my face.  “Say it,” he whispered against my cheek, in between licking my beard with his hot tongue, “Ask me, say my name and ask me…..just say it…” 

Pride is a wonderful thing.  It made me pull back, remember who I was and who he was and why I was there.  Made me ignore those all-too-wonderful urges and become myself again, that man who not be tamed by another’s hand, by a passion not my own. 

“I think not.  Not now.  Not ever.” 

He held onto me for a few moments longer, then rolled over and stood and pulled me to my feet.  He straightened his clothing and watched me from those beautiful, appraising eyes and had the decency not to smile at my obvious self-duplicity.  I wished, for the hundredth time, that I could read him, read beyond that strange fasçade and understand what it really was that he wanted.  That he wanted me was obvious, that he needed to gain my surrender as some repayment for his life was also obvious.  Why he continued to fight for both in the face of all that had happened was a puzzle.   There had to be more.  I was beginning to think that finding out what that “more” was would help me understand him, and perhaps also help me to understand my ever-growing response to him. 

“My upbringing taught me patience,” he said quietly.  I wasn’t sure if it was a response to my words or to my thoughts. “Perhaps I would have been a bad Jedi.  But I would have liked to have tried.” 

He walked outside, pulling the chain and I followed and recognised the small twinge of pain at his words as sorrow.  I tried to imagine him dressed in tunic and leggings, his own lightsaber at his belt, a padawan braid over his shoulder, working alongside me.  It was an oddly attractive picture. 

As I walked, putting one foot in front of the other, I catalogued my woes.  I was filthy, my hair a matted mess, my feet scratched raw and bleeding, my arms bruised with wrists rubbed raw by the cuffs on them.  I was hungry, thirsty, tired and cut off from the Force so that I felt blind in the Light, part of me numb and disconnected, a constant rubbing annoyance at my throat and in my mind. 

And all of those pains faded to insignificance against my frustration.  It was becoming obvious to me that the young man walking before me was starting to break through my defences in spite of everything I did.  He was tired, too, I could see that from the droop of his shoulders and the tired blue skin under his eyes when he watched me.  He was so stubborn, so determined to win no matter the cost.  It was a thick-headed determination that I was sadly familiar with.  He was very much as I had been at his age.  If I hadn’t been selected in spite of my stubborn streak to be a Padawan, perhaps I would have fared worse than he had.  

Had I ruined his life?  Probably.  Xanatos had robbed me of my confidence, dealing me a harsher wound than he could have known, his legacy carried down to Kenobi.  Yoda had wanted me to take him, had seen his potential – but where I would not go, few other Masters would.  He’d been failed more by my inadequacy than his own.  It was a sobering realisation. 

It seemed we would be spending another day lost and hungry until we came to the road.  In a time of aircars surface roads were rare but the world we were on was less advanced than Coruscant and surface vehicles were still used.  And this one was surfaced, smooth and maintained.  We were near to rescue. 

He stopped at the edge of the road and looked both ways, almost like a pedestrian waiting to cross.  It was obviously indecision and I stopped next to him, bending to pull a thorn from my heel.  

“That way,.” I said, pointing to my right. 

“No,” he said, “that way,” and pointed to his left. 

I sighed as I rubbed at an incipient headache.  “Are you saying that just to be contrary or because you know something?" 

He almost smiled.  “Both.  There are towns in both direction, but the one in the direction you chose is a half-day’s further travel.  There’s a small market town that’s much closer this way.” 

“Hmph.  “How much closer?” 

“An hour perhaps.”  He hesitated for a moment, then turned away from the road towards the undergrowth at the edge of the woods where I, perforce, had to follow him.  He undid his pants and I turned to look back at the road, straining to hear any sight of traffic that might give us aid – and I swung around at the sound of his choked shout.  He staggered backwards, shaking his head, obviously shocked by something. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Something – bit me.  A big insect landed on my arm.” 

It seemed an excessive reaction for an insect bite.  “So?” 

He shuddered and rubbed his arm.  “It was very large and hairy and had a lot of eyes.  I don’t like things like that.” 

“You wouldn’t do well on Praedar then, the Praedarians look like six foot tall spiders. . .” 

He didn’t seem to be paying attention – he rubbed his arm in a distracted way then his face screwed up into a grimace of pain and he shuddered.  I grabbed him instinctively as his legs gave out and he collapsed with a cry of pain. 

Sith!  I held him as he convulsed, his lips turning blue as his eyes disappeared up into his head.  It was a major topological reaction to the bite.  I laid him on his back on the grass and rifled his pockets with desperate speed, found the small electronic key and slapped it onto the collar around my neck.  

The collar opened and as I tossed it away I felt the familiar wonderful presence of the Force.  There was no time to wallow in the pleasure of its return, I was too terribly aware of Kenobi’s pain to feel any content. I pulled his coat off and saw the ugly swelling bite mark on his lower right arm.  Putting my hands over it, I closed my eyes and sent my Force-sense into his body, tracking the poison, fighting past his pain. 

It was a purple mass of ugliness spreading through his body attacking his nervous system, working towards his brain.  For such a tiny injection the results were terribly destructive, it was a very potent poison. 

I worked for a long time there on my knees, pushing more and more energy into him, keeping his heart beating and his brain free of the poison until his bloody could flush it away.  I wasn’t a Healer, I couldn’t repair the damage but I could keep him alive and allow his body to do what it could.  

When he was stabilised I opened my eyes and swayed back, almost falling.  I’d used up a lot of energy and the work wasn’t done yet, I had to get him to medical attention  - and that was the difficult part.  An hour he’d said, and how much longer was that with me carrying him?  Well, it was time to test my limits. 

I hoisted his twitching body over my shoulder, braced and balanced his weight within the Force, and began to jog along the road.  I gradually increased my pace, directing my remaining resources to forward movement as I achieved a more perfect union with the Force around me.  The world passed in a blur, time slowed as I moved faster.  Seconds, minutes later, the woods thinned to farmland and I was on the outskirts of a town. 

My appearance created something of a stir as I arrived in the town square, a staggering half-naked crazed-seeming individual carrying an unconscious man over his shoulder.  I managed to make enough sense to have them call the local doctor and in a short while Kenobi was in bed and receiving the antivenin for the bite of the simply named Wood Spider.  And I was having a shower, putting on clean clothing and having my first decent meal in days.


	4. Chapter 4

I sat in the chair beside his bed and watched him sleep and wondered exactly what I was feeling, as if I were an outsider recording reactions.  I should hate him, if hate were an emotion I allowed myself.  At the very least I should know satisfaction that he’d been given some sort of payback for his treatment of me.  I felt none of that, not even residual anger.  

The temptation to touch him while he lay unguarded was too much to resist.  I pulled the chair closer to the bed and ran one hand through the coppery fall of his hair.  He’d been cleaned by the hospital staff and it was soft and warm as I combed my fingers through it.  I let one finger stray down to the firm shoulder, slowly stroked it as some unidentified warmth flowed into my chest, as if I’d somehow absorbed some of his heat.  As I continued to gently stroke his shoulder he came awake. 

His eyes naturally sought me out and for that unguarded moment I think he saw something before I drew back and withdrew into myself again. 

He lay for a time, quietly miserable, his face almost as white as the sheets around him.  I fed him water through a straw and watched him come back to himself, felt the emotions swirl up, the shields lock down behind those wonderful, changeable eyes. 

“So,” he said finally, “it’s over.” 

I nodded, folded my hands in my lap and watched his eyes watching me.  “Yes.” 

“Do I thank you?” 

“Only if you feel grateful.”  I watched him struggle to sit up, resisted the urge to help him.  “You were right about one thing, though.  I have no intention of having you arrested.  I don’t believe it would serve any purpose now.” 

“Ah.”  He sat back against the wall, pulled the sheet up around his hips, the cool mask slipped across his face as he dislodged the monitoring tabs from his chest.  He looked around the room.  “My clothes?” 

“I have no idea.”  There was a sharp ache in my chest which I tried to ignore.  “You’re leaving?” 

“If I can walk, I can go.  Unless you have something more to make me grateful to you for?” 

Ah, how easy it was for him to hurt me, to flick the raw edges of the wounds he’d opened.  I pulled my own shields tight, as pointless as it was, for his attacks couldn’t be stopped by Force shields. 

“I’ll send someone to help you.”  I stood and he watched me turn to the door, I could feel his eyes on my back.  I didn’t turn to look back, walked out and closed the door quietly behind me. 

I organised transport for myself and returned to the capital city that day, leaving him behind to make his own way, knowing he would take no assistance from me.  I paid for an aircar anyhow, made it seem that the medical centre had arranged it.  I don’t know why, it seemed a small inconsistency in the face of all the other flaws in my reasoning.  He was sick and that was reason enough. 

As I waited in my rooms for my transport back to Coruscant, I tried to understand my feelings.  Where was I? 

Wherever it was, it was a lonely place.  For that moment, for the moments and days to come.  For the lack of his presence in my life that I would know when he was gone along whatever road he travelled.  I’d been bitten by something too and the poison was far more insidious, possibly more lethal.  Any cure was likely to be worse than the illness. 

I’d always been a singular person but never thought of myself as lonely.  Yet in a few mad days that angry, brilliant flame had shown up the dark corners of my life in stark relief.  The chains were gone but I wished they weren’t.  And that worried me, it worried me a great deal. 

 

I’d returned to the city, put my business in order and noted that the brief outbreak of hostilities in which we had inadvertently been caught had already been sorted out.  There was nothing for me to do but organize my return passage to Coruscant, bid goodbye to my hosts and wait in the hostel for the call from the ship.  

While I waited, I naturally thought of Kenobi.  I also wondered about my own reactions to him, to what had happened to us both.  Did I hate him?  I wanted to believe myself incapable of hate which, as my old teacher would tell me, leads to nowhere I wanted to go.  I was also fairly certain that whatever it was I felt for him, it wasn’t hate.  It was a little too close to something much warmer, much needier, for my peace of mind. 

I deliberately avoided going any place where I might meet him, boarded my ship the next day and returned to Coruscant.  It had always been a comfort to get back home, to return to my familiar places.  My empty, familiar places. 

I made my report to the council and asked for an appointment with Yoda, who agreed to see me that same day.  My Master has always been able to sense when there is something wrong and he was waiting with a hot pot of Cha and a plate of my favorite biscuits when I arrived.  Many people don’t see his empathy but its very powerful and he watched me enter from her couch with one ear tipped forward and his old eyes bright with concern. 

“Sensed there was something wrong, Qui-Gon.  Not the mission, I think, but something else.”  He pointed to a comfortable old sofa.  “Sit.  Tell me.” 

So I sat, cradling my cha and told him.  Told him all about Kenobi, about the kidnapping and the more repeatable adventures and our altogether unlikely bond.  Told him of the young man’s strength within the Force. 

“You were right, all those years ago,” I said, sipping the Cha, looking somewhere above his head as Kenobi’s face filled my eyes.  “I should have taken him as Padawan.  I did him a great disservice.  Ruined his life.  Mine as well, perhaps.” 

I looked down at him as he studied the floor, making little swirling movements with the tip of his stick.  “Always a sadness for me, that he was lost to the Jedi.  Such things happen, I know, but sadness still, it is.  As for disservice, dwell on the past we cannot.  Grown you both are, as human count the years.  Live with the past you must and not be consumed by it.” 

I knew that, knew the logic of it and knew I had no need to blame myself – but I fel t guilty still and suspected I always would.  Some things cannot be changed simply by wishing to make them so.  I would live with the blame lying there at the bottom of my heart and learn to hide it away so that I could go on. 

And I did go on, for days that turned into weeks that turned into months.  Not a day went by that I didn’t think of him and I usually found an excuse to monitor his activities.  He dabbled in many things, traded goods of various sorts, hired as a negotiator, taught Force skills, wandered from place to place and I wondered if he was happy.  

Then I started dreaming of him.  While I slept I would see him in that odd disconnected dreamstate, doing things that sometimes made sense and sometimes didn’t.  He felt very close to me in those dreams, so close I could hear his voice, sense his presence.  The dreams could be dark and discontented, cheerful and happy, or a mixture of both.  I began to crave sleep so that I could see his face while I slept. 

Later, I began to get flashes of feeling, touches of emotion and thought and I knew it was the bond, strengthening somehow in spite of everything, in spite of the distance between us, of the other things between us.  Would it go on like this, an ever-increasing spiral of insubstantial contact.  I could already see the pressure on myself, my sleeping patterns were disturbed, I had virtually no appetite and my concentration was almost non-existent.  Meditation achieved nothing but a headache. 

I had to face the fact that I missed him.  That part of myself was somewhere else and I wanted to be somewhere else too.  This infuriating, disagreeable, frustrating, wonderful young man that it seemed I might need in some way beyond all the boundaries of good Jedi common sense. 

I was attempting to come to some sort of understanding without much success when I received some bad news.  Two major mining colonies had becoming involved in a particularly dirty war and both sides were importing weapons from wherever they could get them.  It seemed that Obi-Wan had organized a supply run to the smaller and more needy planet and had been caught trying to run the blockade.  He’d been given a very brief trial and was sentenced to be executed as a spy. 

I hesitated for all of ten seconds before heading off to the Council.  They sympathized but could offer no assistance beyond sending a request for leniency.  I knew that would be a total waste of time.  Mace tried forbidding me to go. 

“Qui-Gon, direct intervention would be pointless.  You would be killed to no purpose.”  The dark eyes watched me, tried to stare me down.  “You are ordered to stay on Coruscant.” 

I looked at him, ignored the others.  That this man, younger than I by a good decade, with none of my experience at field work of this type, should order me was infuriating.  “Would you like to reconsider, Master Windu?”  I was pleased with my quiet, level voice. 

He might have seen the insanity lurking behind my eyes – it certainly felt like insanity, to consider doing what I was considering.  He shook his head. 

“Don’t do it, Qui-Gon.  Don’t disobey. . .” 

“Or what?  You will be displeased?  Well, excuse me, but I am accustomed to earning the displeasure of the Council.  In this instance, the Council can go to hell.” 

There were shocked whispered around the room but I continued to stare at Mace, eyes locked, chin thrust forward aggressively.  He nodded slowly. 

“Very well.  If you must go, then go.  What do you hope to achieve, beyond your own death?” 

“Ever the optimist.  I never go into any situation expecting to lose.  Its one reason I rarely do.  I expect the Council to support me, to assist me to help a young man who once lived here and who was discarded by me, by the Jedi, for no other sin than a natural boyish aggression.  I will find Kenobi and I will bring him back with me, if he will come. 

Yoda spoke finally.  “May the Force be with you, Qui-Gon.”  That was all, just his blessing, instead of the condemnation he might have given me.  I bowed to him, to all of them, and left to find Kenobi and bring him home.

 


	5. Chapter 5

The first thing I did was set about looking like anything but a Jedi Master.  I borrowed clothing from friends to suit the appearance of what I intended to be – a small trader in specialized demolition explosives working with his own one-man fast courier ship.  I ended up with black short boots, brown trousers, white shirt and a black leather coat, with my hair tried back in a single braid.  I gave some thought to cutting it off but decided it leant me a piratical air tied back with a piece of red twine.  I trimmed my beard short and finished up the picture by having one of the Temple healers insert a small gold stud into the left side of my nose. 

A little careful doctoring of the Interweb records invented a shady character named Kevarn Drell, and I was ready to go. 

Yoda came to the Temple ship pad while I was loading the crates of explosives on board the courier.  I dusted my hands and went to sit down beside him and he patted my arm with one small, strong hand. 

“Be careful you will, Qui-Gon.  Many students have I lost over the centuries.  Rather you would not add to their numbers.” 

“I shall try my best not to get myself killed, my Master.” 

He watched me and I felt the Force stir under his delicate but powerful touch.  “Means much to you, this boy.” 

I nodded, tasting the future.  “Force-sight is not one of my greatest skills.  I have always done well in balancing myself within the Force as you taught me, with centering myself in the present.  I never thought to look to the future back then, to try and foresee what our fates would be.  Perhaps I should have.  Sometimes being so self-centered makes one isolated.”  I hunched down, ran one hand over my face.  I was tired and felt stretched.  “I have dedicated my life to serving the will of the Force, the will of the Jedi.  For just once I would like to serve myself.” 

He nodded, made no comment but I felt his benediction touch me through the Force like the warm thoughts of an old friend.  He didn’t share his vision of the future with me but I accepted that.  There was a past to be made peace with first.  The future would take care of itself. 

 

Port Opal was a cable-suspended orbital tower linked by hydraulics and Durilium towers to the planet below.  The ore was sent up the tower to be fed into the huge ore bunkers and offloaded onto the ore carriers for transport to Stryde, the neighboring world which operated as a smelter works.  The two planets had been squabbling over taxes and duties for years and it had finally broken out into all-out war.  The Opalites used their ore ships to drop rocks on Stryde, the Strydians used the wealth of their smelter works to buy weaponry and hire mercenary warships.  Space around the two planets was littered with wrecked ships, shattered rock and chaos of interplanetary war. 

My informants had told me that Kenobi was being held at Port Opal and I arrived only a day before he was scheduled to be terminated. 

The Port was a gigantic, ugly black and gray structure, a cross between an orbital platform and a floating city.  It was ringed by defensive robotic war defence satellites and I was challenged half a dozen times before I finally managed to dock.  My cargo ensured a smart clearance as they were chronically short of the explosives that detonated the fuel packs used to launch their rock missiles.  I hoped to be away by the time they found the detonators were useless. 

Security took my blaster as I entered Customs but didn’t notice my lightsaber inside the sleeve of my jacket.  Well, they would have noticed if the security agent hadn’t reacted so well to a little Force misdirection.  I handed over the datachips on my stock and arranged for it to be offloaded before heading off to investigate the Port. 

It was loud, busy and smelled bad.  Their atmospheric recyclers were apparently working hard to maintain the air and not bothering to filter out the odours; I felt sure I could detect every unwashed body in the entire structure. A wall map outside Customs gave little detail on the Security Detention Center but as close as I was I could sense him,  I needed only  to follow that intriguing trail through the Force. 

Bribery will only carry you so far.  Eventually you meet up with a block in the chain that won’t break,  a loyal soldier of whatever cause is involved or an unbendable entity.  I managed to get through to the main detention area by a series of bribes and tricks and Force manipulation, but I knew eventually I’d be stonewalled.  

The stonewall in this case was a droid.  Droids do not react to Force persuasion and they could rarely be bribed.  It was one of the new Destroyer Droids that came with their own shields and twin rapid firing blasters.  Not a lot of intelligence but very little intelligence was required to stand and shoot. It was planted at rest in front of the main prison section and no-one was getting by it without proper security clearance. 

Which I didn’t have. 

I turned and left, frustrated, aware that time was running out.  It would do not good to attack it – even if I managed to get to it before it set it shields, the securitycams would observe the attack and seconds later its friends would be joining the game.  Well, if I could not get in through the front door, I would have to find a back door.  As my Master once told me, alternatives there always are.  My Master was something of an optimist, I don’t believe he’d been in many prison centres. 

It took me two hours to carefully track down a floor plan of the cells and work out the most likely form of entry.  Like most prisons, it was designed more to keep people in than out – not many people wanted to break INTO a prison.  It was still a hard ask, but I found a service conduit that I might just be able to fit through.  It had security systems and laser traps but I could handle those with the tools I’d brought.  If I were lucky.  If I believed in luck at all. 

The entry to the service conduit was at the back of the ore elevator engineering section and had less security than the other areas of the station.  I had to force the cover of the conduit open and hope that no-one saw the broken latch; as soon as the area was clear I pulled myself up the ladder, slid into the cold, shadowed tube and closed the cover behind me.  

I’d brought a small torch which I turned on and held in my mouth – the conduit was a circular pipe used by droids and was just wide enough for me to pull myself through.  It was rough on my hands and knees and it took what felt like days to travel only a few hundred feet.  My Force senses told me when I was approaching a secured area and I created some white noise, hoped it would cover my passage.  I disabled three lasers from a distance and almost triggered a simple wire alarm by crawling over it but touched with my fingers before I could set it off.  Someone in Security was clever – sometimes the simpler traps are the ones you miss. 

The conduit passed near the central security office and I moved very carefully in that area, trying to ignore my concerns that there might well be detectors operating that I could sense in that secure area.  No alarms blazed, I wasn’t blasted by any hidden guns so it seemed that what passed for fortune was with me. 

I came to an entry above a stretch of empty corridor and waited for a while to check the traffic.  When no-one walked beneath my within a half-hour period I silently opened the hatch and dropped own onto the floor.  I listened, reached out to sense around me, could detect no sign that I’d been observed.  I pocked the torch and pulled out my map – this was some sort of service corridor leading to store rooms, only one main corridor away from the cell holding Kenobi.  

He was close, I could feel him, almost smell him.  It made me itch with impatience and I took a deep, calming breath.  To get so close and fail would be – well, it would be very frustrating. . . 

Fortune, like good wine, runs out eventually.  I reached the end of the corridor and was studying the door when it opened and a large, heavily armed miner almost walked into me.  He stopped and grabbed for his gun. 

“Who are you!” 

Bluff or fight?  Try: I’m lost, I’m looking for the bathroom?  Did not seem a ploy likely to succeed.  His mind was suspicious and violent and there was no time for finesse.  I grabbed his arm, twisted him around on his centre of balance, kicked his feet from under him.  He tried to pull his blaster, tried to shout and I struck him across the throat with the edge of my hand.  He choked and collapsed and I knocked him out with another blow to the side of the head. 

I grabbed his shoulders and dragged him to a storeroom door, kicked it open and shoved him inside.  Taking his blaster, I tucked it into my pants and pushed the door closed.  Listened – no signs of alarm though his workmates would come looking for him soon.  I went back to the door and keyed it open.  Another corridor, wider, brighter and likely to be a lot busier. 

But there, just two doors away, was a cell door with the number 23C on it.  Inside that cell was Kenobi.  I knew he could sense my presence, felt his ambivalent emotions, did something I’d never done to anyone before – I reached out through the Force and touched his mind along a pre-established bond.  What I had previously shielded myself from I then opened myself to. 

_I am here for you.  Are you ready to go?_

He was too new at this use of the Force to verbalise and his mind felt woolly with the confusion of drugs.  He’d obviously tried to use the Force on someone and they’d drugged him to keep him docile.  Or as docile as my wild one was likely to be. 

I crossed the corridor, studied the door.  An electronic lock, set to code and palm open.  Sith!  My patience was ended.  I slid my lightsaber from my sleeve, ignited it and thrust it into the lock.  It melted immediately and it took only a push to slide the door open and I was inside. 

He was standing at the other side of the small room, dressed in a gray one-piece prison outfit, waiting.  He wavered on his feet but still managed to  look hostile. 

“What are you doing here, you fool!” 

Typical.  “Continue with the warm gratitude later.  Shall we leave?”  I tossed him the blaster, watched him fumble and almost drop it and turned back to the door, shielding an outrageous desire to grab him and kiss that bruised, wonderful face. 

There was no-one in sight but no sound of alarms either.  I felt him behind me.  “Can you keep up with me”  It was a deliberate prod and I sensed him rise to it. 

“I can go anywhere you can.  Shall we leave?” 

We moved back to the service corridor and up into the maintenance tunnel.  He slid in front of me, cursing quietly at his lack of dexterity as he crawled through each section.  We actually made it into the engineering bay before the sirens began howling. 

We froze, huddled amongst the crates and machinery as the sirens shrieked and echoed through the big open work engineering bay.  My immediate reaction was to curse at getting so close – but then the floor and walls bucked and there was the sound of a crashing explosion. 

“It isn’t the prison alarm!!” Kenobi said, rather unnecessarily  “The station is under attack.” 

“So it seems.”  I pointed across the bay. “My ship is that way. “  I studied him, tried to assess his state; the drugs were wearing off but he still wasn’t up to his usual level.  “Can you keep up with me?” 

He practically snarled at me.  “Lead on, Master Jedi.  If I faint I’ll rely on you to jog me awake.” 

We would definitely need to have words about his attitude but then was certainly not the time.  I sent out my senses through the Force, smelled smoke and felt the station buck under me again from another strike and knew that time was running out.  The future was rushing towards a cataclysmic event at this point in space and we had to be away from it before it happened. 

I was so intent on leading him through the growing smoke and confusion that I missed the sudden appearance of three heavily armed security soldiers.  One of them barrelled into me, knocking me sideways against the second one who grabbed me and held on with rigid armoured strength. 

I tried to reach my lightsaber but the oversized soldier holding me tightened his grip and I felt a bone snap in my arm.  I think I made some sound, heard Kenobi curse from where he’d dodged behind a crate.  The soldier to my right held a blaster to my head and spoke in a mechanised, amplified voice. 

“Come out or I’ll blow his head off!” 

“Go ahead!  Give me a target!” 

As a ploy, I considered this tactless and less than comforting but it did confuse the soldier, who turned to his companions for advice.  The slight lessening of attention gave me time to concentrate – I twisted my arm from his grip with a groan, shoved him backwards with a solid Force push and ducked away from the blaster.  As soon as I cleared the target Kenobi fired and all three went down.  

I allowed myself a moment to cradle the broken arm against myself as Kenobi came out from his hiding place.  I looked across at him and smiled. “Thank you.” 

He huffed and laid a surprisingly gentle hand on my arm. “Is it broken?” 

“Yes, but it can wait…” 

Not surprisingly, he ignored me and laid his hand over the break, dislodging my fingers.  I sensed the warm infusion of Force strength and tried to pull away. “No, you must keep your strength, I can wait!” 

“Be quiet, I am trying to concentrate.”  I watched him do what an untrained Force user should not be able to do – send healing energy into my arm and knit the fracture.  It seemed to give him an odd sort of peace as we stood there in the shadow of violence and when he looked up at me, hand still resting on my arm, all of the tension and anger was gone and his eyes were very clear. 

He took a deep breath and turned away before I could thank him.  “You might want to watch where you’re going.  This isn’t exactly a good place to lose your much-vaunted Jedi concentration.” 

I felt an unexpected pain at his words, even though I knew I should be accustomed to it.  He stopped for a moment, seemed about to turn back, then straightened and continued on his way.  I flexed my hand, tested the bone and followed him. If only we could heal the other wounds as easily. 

The docking bay was a chaotic mess.  Every ship in the bay was being prepped for launch or already on its way out and there had been at least one collision as two ships tried to get out the same hatch at the same time.  My own little ship was still sitting untouched in the corner, its ragged appearance providing some protection against thievery.  I keyed in the security code and we went inside.  Before I could take the pilot seat Kenobi pushed me into the second seat and took the controls. 

“You can’t pilot with that arm and I am, as it happens, a better pilot.” 

“And you know this for certain?” I said, my temper starting to flare in spite of my best intentions. 

“Yes.  There is no time to argue about this.  Buckle up.” 

That was true enough.  I bit down on the automatic come-back, snapped my lap belt on and hung on as he fired up the engines and toggled on the thrusters.  The ship flipped around on its horizontal axis until its nose was pointed at the entry port.  He flipped on the communicator and spoke into it as he lifted the ship. 

“This is the two-man Sheldian Dart – I’m going out and if anyone gets in my way I’ll blast them.  Make way!” 

A large freighter pulled up in front of us and Kenobi dragged back on the stick, sending us into the gap between the freighter’s top and the bay roof.  He shot a blast across the nose of another small ship trying to move in front of him and it dodged aside, clipping the freighter.  Using a skill I had to admire he flew us through the maze of ships and falling metal and within seconds we were outside the station and heading away from it at full speed. 

That was the end of one problem and the start of another. 

I looked back at Port Opal and knew we’d made it out only just in time.  The station was starting to tumble as it was thrown off position by atmosphere gusting out through multiple tears in its hull.  Fires flamed through ripped plating and explosions blossomed all over its gigantic bulk.  It still fired at its attackers, the hopeless acts of defiance by a doomed, brave crew.  That the station contained thousands of innocent people who were even now dying filled me with grief.  There was nothing, absolutely nothing, that I could do to help them. 

There was little time for grief, however, because we were under attack.  The miners had obviously hired some out-of-system mercenary fighters and three of them had locked onto us and were boring in for the kill.  My ship had only one blaster and I didn’t think much of our chances but Kenobi didn’t seemed concerned about odds – he turned the ship and flew it straight at one of the fighters in a perfect head-on course. 

“Are you planning to kill us both?”  I asked, pleased at my calm tone. 

“This is a game,” he said through a feral, intent smile.  “Its called Point-to-Point.  Whoever breaks, loses.” 

“And if neither of you break?” 

“Then we both lose.”  He held the controls in a white-knuckled grip.  “Get ready to rake him when he breaks.  He’ll probably pull up, those fighters handle best in a climb.  You can hit him in the belly at that point.” 

Just how he had acquired this cornucopia of information on fighter tactics might have bothered me if I’d had time to think.  Which I didn’t –the ship’s gun could fortunately be used one-handed as it was designed to be fired by someone piloting and firing.  I switched on the targeting computer and zeroed in on the blip that filled the dead centre of the screen, growing larger with each second.  

Closer, very fast, one moment hundreds of feet away and then right on top of us – and he was right, it pulled up at the last second and I triggered the blaster to strike along its underside and sensed it explode behind us.  The other two fighters, perhaps feeling the pilot of the scruffy little courier was out of his mind, went off in search of easier game.  We made our way easily past the bigger ships, dodged a few other less aggressive fighters and jumped to hyperspace as soon as we found a clear, safe spot. 

I looked at the navigational coordinates he’d set in. “Where are you going?” 

“Alderaan.  Nice safe area.” 

I shook my head.  “I have to return to Coruscant.  And I’d like you to come with me.” 

He swivelled in the chair, folded his arms over his gray tunic and shook his head.  “No.  I don’t go to Corsucant.  I certainly don’t go anywhere near the Jedi Temple.  We’ll go to Alderaan and…” 

Anger leads to fear.  Fear to .. Sith take it.  Get angry!  I surged up in the seat, all of the frustrations and fear boiling out of me like steam from a covered pot, grabbed him out of his chair and shoved him against a bulkhead. 

At least, it started that way.  He twisted around in my grip and I was the one being pushed against the wall, flattened by his body, the arm that he had healed taken and held in a hard grip. 

“You gave up the right to tell me what to do years ago.  What makes you think you have that right now?” 

There was more than just simple aggression in that question, or in the hands that held me.  I stopped moving, looked down into that face that had haunted too many of my nights and knew that the moment had come, at last. 

“Obi-Wan.” 

Whatever words he’d been about to say faded and he looked up at me with an expression of almost perfect surprise.  I slipped out of his suddenly lax grasp and took his face in my hands, leant forward and down and very gently kissed him.  

He might have struck me, pushed me away, even bitten me.  Instead he wrapped his arms around me, surged against me, pressed closer until I could hardly breathe, until all of my senses were filled with the sight and sound and smell of him.  He muttered something I couldn’t hear above the thudding of my own heart and the power of his need coming to me along the unexpected bond we had formed. 

That he tasted so good was a revelation.  My own hunger built, a fire I’d smothered for too long. 

“Obi-Wan . . .”  I couldn’t seem to form language beyond his name but it seemed enough for him.   We sank down to our knees on the deck, pressed together, his hands inside my coat, pulling up my shirt so that he could touch my skin, and all the while his mouth worked at me, splitting me open, his tongue tasting me, drinking me in as if he were thirsty and I was the water he needed to survive. 

I felt as if I was on fire.  Every nerve burned hot, every inch of skin shivered with the need to be touched by him.  He left my mouth and I gasped in breath, heart thudding, all Masterly control gone.  My hands were shaking, actually shaking and I couldn’t seem to stop.  Some sort of overload, he took them and kissed each palm but that only made it worse.  Worse when he stopped and I begged him to do – something – to stop that terrible, wonderful pain. 

We ended up making love on the deck of that little cramped spaceship as it made its way to Alderaan.  We lay in the nest of our own clothing and I learned how much more experienced he was at lovemaking than I.  He held me and touched every part of me as I tried to reach all of him, roused me until I begged for release, took me into his mouth and then I’m sure I almost died from the pleasure of it.  And when he turned me and took me as he’d wanted too all those weeks before it was because I asked him to, and because he found himself unable to pull away from whatever it was we’d made between us. 

Exhausted finally, we lay together, damp skins touching and I held his head against my heart.  

“In case you’re wondering,” he said in somewhat croaky voice, “I don’t hate you anymore.” 

I still had the strength to laugh. 


End file.
